The two of us, her a middle-aged divorcee, me much younger, were coupled amidst muddled sheets, wrapped in murky shadows skulking about her bedroom in a tropical vacation bungalow near a white sand beach. Her ruby cum fuck me pumps unshackled, on the floor; my young man's practical, proper, in fashion shoes nearby. Her red lace panties, the crimson balconet bra, the spaghetti strapped cherry sheath, my trendy duds piled on the floor.
She, this smoothly contoured older woman formerly from France on her back, me, a bony, sometimes broody, tow headed lad in front, on top. My background was German. I was no Schreibtischtater, a writing table perpetrator or in Texas parlance all hat and no cattle. I freely plied my long, large, fat cock into rich, mature women's bodies, their beds. I had them aboard luxurious boats, sprawled across granules of sand at the beach, on the lush leather back seat of chauffeur driven limousines and a host of other erotic, exotic play fields. In plundering their eager, earnest pussies, pleasuring them wherever they deemed desirable, I found my own pleasure and a great deal of financial reward to boot.
Her red painted toes tethered by flexed tendons, five shallow hillocks rearing across each foot like surging sand dunes. The two of us joined together, feminine bare feet, and masculine ones curled as apostrophes. My cock, a nearly bursting, ballsy based rod buried in her womb, my yang soon to be milked once more in her soaked through and through container of yin.
Her long lithe toes, the longitudinal file of mounded tendons under skin feverish with balmy heat, the sensuous gentle ascent topping her feet, was to my foot fetish fascinated peepers, a dreamscape of bi-pedal delight.
Her round ankles, hard bulges firm as petrified wood, not bouncy, spongy like her bounteous, blue veined breasts, silky soft cavities behind her knees or the supple outline of her slim, cock guzzling throat.
My cock stationed in her shaved slit, my post juvenile paws stroked, seized her bony humps of ankles. These knobs the point of departure, the place where her shapely runner's legs embarked, journeyed to bundled calves, bended knees, tapered thighs, finally the Promised Land, the juncture at her seasoned Y where my cock was happily snared in her wet through and through nest. In the past, the present, the future, at least for twelve days, I would enjoy this auburn haired wanton wench. When on vacation, she frequently induced, seduced or even salaried young men, never less then 18 years old, into her sumptuous sex fiend's bed. This season's playground, a four poster bed sitting on lathed struts, its firm mattress resilient to our hammering one another. The hard fact of our twined bodies, the undulating motion of our coupling, and the exhilarating sensations in these moments played out on indefatigable and noisy springs. Squeaks accompanied by Sinatra's voice on the CD, the world outdoors eerily silent. Surrounded by blond rattan furniture and bamboo accents, a ceiling fan circled lazily above our disturbed fun filled bed.
Perfume scented, clean smelling, the sweetest disposition, not one hint of superiority or manor born attitude, her warm voluptuous body charged me with such desire, this was not work but an amusement ride. Always the professional though, I still felt obligated to pleasure her, please her fetish frolicking with newly matured studs, not let her find fault with a male member of my generation, utter disparagements to fellow females of her ilk calling on her in the plush digs on San Francisco's Nob Hill.
